


read my mind

by thesunsethour



Series: hell yes, found family [5]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Addiction, Growing Up, M/M, William Reid's A+ parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:14:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26739433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesunsethour/pseuds/thesunsethour
Summary: Spencer remembers the good days, before the booze and the complications.  Ethan had been playing on his keyboard one evening; a simple melody straight from his memory, that nevertheless brought tears to Spencer’s eyes.“Are you sure you wanna join the FBI?”  He teased.  “Jazz seems to be your calling.”Ethan didn’t laugh.  Instead he cupped his soft hands around Spencer’s sharp jaw, pressing their foreheads together softly.“There’s only two things I’m good at in life, Spencer."  He whispered.  "Writing music and loving you.”Spencer wondered if he knew then that he would leave.*cm songfic, part 4
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Ethan
Series: hell yes, found family [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932388
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	read my mind

_”I never really gave up on breaking out of this two-star town.”_

Spencer Reid had a plan for his life, and at ten years old, he thought it was bulletproof.

If he graduated high school at twelve, (picking up a few full-ride scholarships along the way), he could start college the same year, and receive his first doctorate by fifteen. His dream school was Caltech, and he could picture himself on the campus, finally with people who were interested in the same things as he was, and who maybe wouldn’t judge him.

His father took his plan and set it on fire, leaving nothing but dusty embers in his wake.

Suddenly, and with little warning, he was thrust into a role that sought to consume both his present and future. Being the sole caretaker of their little home was arduous and utterly _exhausting_ work, and yet, what else could be done?

If his mother didn’t pay the electricity bills, who would? If she forgot to buy the groceries and clean the kitchen, who would? It wasn’t her fault, Spencer rationalises to himself, as he wraps a band aid over his profusely bleeding finger. It wasn’t her fault he had to chop the carrots for dinner and nearly sliced his hand open. Maybe they’d just get take-out tomorrow.

His father did little for them while he was around, but what little he did made a far greater impact than Spencer had conceptualised. Left alone, afloat, with his mother having more bad than good days now, he wished in utter desperation every night for some respite.

Relief came in the form of Ethan, four years older and almost ( _almost_ ) as clever.

Spencer met Ethan during a local science fair. The older boy was competing for a rival school, a private school, with uniforms and a fancy Latin motto that Spencer was intrigued by and researched later. Both of their projects were on magnetism. And like magnets, they found themselves unwittingly drawn to each other, trading glances as the judges inspected each project. It was close, closer than Spencer had expected that morning, but ultimately, he was victorious.

It brought Spencer a sense of smug satisfaction to see the crestfallen, bitter faces of the private school kids who had barely looked in his direction before he was announced as winner. They shot him dirty looks as he walked up to collect his trophy, but as usual he ignored them. People had been sending him dirty looks for his intelligence for as long as he could remember, but there was one major difference.

Ethan was standing by the wall, arms crossed, and head cocked to the side, with an amused smirk that seemed more curious than condescending. Spencer didn’t know exactly how to react, so he simply nodded back. 

And thus, a rivalry was born.

At every spelling bee, science fair, math quiz, Ethan and Spencer would find themselves competing for the top prize, and nine times out of ten it was Spencer in his ratty shoes and loose jumpers that would prevail over the perfectly pressed blazer that Ethan wore. But the approximately ten percent of times that Spencer _didn’t win_ , those were his favourite times. He never realised there could be any joy in losing, but with Ethan, there was. It was exhilarating, having some real, true competition for once.

And thus, a friendship was born.

They would meet each other in their local park and play chess until the sky darkened behind them. Ethan preferred their conversations to their chess matches, and slowly, Spencer began agreeing with him. It got to a stage where they would meet up just to talk, and sometimes, Ethan would even invite him to his house.

It was a random Tuesday evening, and Spencer was perched upside down on the green leather couch in Ethan’s basement, reading Chaucer as the other boy played video games.

“You know, there’s ample evidence to support the fact that playing violent video games can encourage and breed violent behaviour.”

Ethan’s entire body swerved left as his character on screen got blown up and a menacing, red ‘GAME OVER’ appeared before their eyes.

“You distracted me, man.” Ethan moaned, flopping back into his bean bag, thick, dark hair falling into his eyes.

“I just thought you might want to know about the levels of violence in video games.” Spencer replied, sitting up and ducking his head sadly, _knowing_ that it was his fault Ethan lost his game.

“Hey, Spencer, it’s okay. I mean, I don’t really care about it, but you know.”

Spencer didn’t know. Ethan was his first ever proper friend, and nothing made sense.

Ethan sighed. “You don’t have to be afraid to speak around me, it’s okay. I know this shitty world has conditioned you against it, but you’re good here.”

Spencer cocked his head in intrigue. “I don’t think the world is… bad.” He didn’t curse, his mother always said that language was too precious to spoil with foul words like the ones Ethan used.

“No?” the other boy asked.

“No. I mean, I have to believe that there’s something good out there. You know, somewhere else. College maybe, in California. If I can go.”

Ethan turned toward Spencer fully now, eyebrows creased as he stared at his young friend.

“What do you mean, ‘if you can go’?” he said incredulously. “You’re gonna get so many scholarships you won’t know what to do with them.”

Spencer shrugged. “My mom will need help. I can’t just leave her.”

“Play some backstreet poker, win a shit ton of money, hire a home nurse, get the hell out of Vegas. It’s a solid plan. Don’t tell me you want to be stuck here forever.”

Las Vegas was probably someone else’s absolute dream, Spencer mused. But not his. The rest of the country seemed to call out to him; begging him to go anywhere but here. Ever since his father’s abandonment, Spencer’s life plan seemed like it had ended before it had even begun.

“That’s not a bad plan.” He told Ethan. “But – But wherever I end up going, you know, I – I hope you’re there, as well.”

Ethan smiled.

Thus, a wonderful, brilliant, not-enough-adjectives-to-describe-how-great-it-is friendship began.

_“I got the green light, I got a little fight. I’m gonna turn this thing around.”_

College was simultaneously both over and underwhelming.

Spencer was still an outsider at all of twelve years old. Too young, too clever, too odd. The world around him still felt too bright, too loud, too stressful.

But at least he wasn’t getting beat up every day. Small mercies.

Ethan didn’t go to Caltech, instead choosing MIT. Excitement seemed to bubble out of him when he announced this to Spencer, and although the younger boy tried not to let his abject horror shine through, it was difficult when you only had one friend in the whole wide world, who was leaving. When you’re twelve years old and so very, very far from home, sometimes all you want is your mother, and your best friend.

His mother was home in Vegas, being looked after by a much-too-expensive home nurse that Spencer affords with poker money. His best friend couldn’t possible be further away, and although they occasionally write letters, it’s just not the same.

If his father leaving left him with nothing but dimming embers, Ethan’s was causing him to drown.

Assignments and projects were second nature to him; in fact, he loved the academic side of his college experience with all his heart. Ethan’s absence however, seemed to leave a space in his soul that filled up with water, cold and ruthless, caving him in from the inside out.

But the years go by, as years tend to do, and Spencer, cautiously, learned how to float.

Not swim, mind you. The turbulent waters of the world were still undiscoverable to him, but at least he was able to survive.

It was Ethan that once again forced him to live.

Spencer was eighteen the next time he saw Ethan, and nearly finished his third doctorate. Ethan had grown tall, and his hair had grown long. His wicked sense of humour stayed the same, as did the kind yet mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes.

Caltech offered a wonderful post-graduate programme that Ethan was eager to take advantage of, and Spencer could not have been more delighted.

The dorm room they shared was quintessentially _them_. Spencer’s many books mingled with Ethan’s music sheets. Science textbooks that belonged to the both of them were streamed across the floor more often than not. It was a little bit messy, but, hell, so were they.

Years down the line, Spencer would regard his third doctorate as one of the best periods of his life. Countless nights were spent discussing everything and nothing. Scientific theories, sci-fi, Ethan’s ‘unique’ music taste, Spencer’s ‘interesting’ facts. 

And under the soft yellow dorm lights, Spencer Reid thought he fell in love.

Nothing he’d ever read in a book compared to what he and Ethan shared. 

It was simple, being around him. He didn’t have to cut himself off mid-sentence in case he was annoying someone. Ethan genuinely seemed to enjoy himself in Spencer’s company, which was more than what could be said for most everyone else.

The kisses they shared were slow, and romantic. They were perfect.

Everything was perfect.

Until nothing was.

Ethan liked to drink. It wasn’t unusual, Spencer rationalised. Sixty percent of college students drink at least once a month, and of that percentage, two-thirds tend toward binge drinking. It was nothing to be concerned about, until every statistic of alcohol dependency came shooting back into Spencer’s mind one night, when they were sat on their dorm room floor, staring at the ceiling above them.

“We should go for it.” Spencer had said. “The FBI. Profiling. Agent Gideon’s presentations are absolutely fascinating, and my psychology BA would be of real benefit. And, I mean, think about it Ethan! We’d be making a real difference in the world with what we have to offer. Helping people, you know?”

“They won’t let me in.” His boyfriend mumbled, arm moving lazily up to cover his eyes. Most everything Ethan did these days was lethargic.

“What do you mean? Of course they would. Well, you’d naturally have to go through the academy first, but-“

“With my drinking, Reid? Really? How naïve can you be? Grow up.”

“Ethan-“

“ _Don’t._ ” 

Spencer Reid thought he fell in love, and maybe he did. 

For a while, with parts of Ethan that Spencer wasn’t sure entirely existed anymore.

And that night, when Ethan had passed out after his thirteenth can of the highest percentage alcohol he could find, Spencer made a promise.

“This isn’t gonna destroy you. We’re gonna fight this. Stay with me.”

If only it was that easy.

_”Slipping in my faith, until I fall. He never returned that call.”_

Ethan left silence behind him.

As Spencer came home to their shared apartment in Virginia, so very, very, _perfectly_ far from Nevada, it was deadly quiet.

There was no jazz music playing loudly. No obnoxious snoring that Spencer loved to hate. No sparking smile and questions about each other’s day.

There was simply a note.

“New Orleans. My new start. I’m sorry.”

Spencer didn’t allow himself to feel shocked. Abandonment, after all, was standard to him by now.

He did, however, allow himself a few hours of heartbreak before succumbing to sleep.

In those hours, he called Ethan’s phone over and over, reaching a point where he didn’t even expect an answer; he just wanted to hear his voicemail. It was a special kind of hell, to have such a silent, solitary part of someone left. A manufactured message, and nothing more.

Spencer remembers the good days, before the booze and the complications. Ethan had been playing on his keyboard one evening; a simple melody straight from his memory, that nevertheless brought tears to Spencer’s eyes.

“Are you sure you wanna join the FBI?” He teased. “Jazz seems to be your calling.”

Ethan didn’t laugh. Instead he cupped his soft hands around Spencer’s sharp jaw, pressing their foreheads together softly.

“There’s only two things I’m good at in life, Spencer." He whispered. "Writing music and loving you.”

Spencer wondered if he knew then that he would leave.

Leave him the way his dad did.

Leave him the way Spencer left his mother, left Las Vegas.

There was one thing that was certain though. Spencer Reid was _not_ letting himself get attached to anyone at the BAU. It would just lead to more heartbreak.

He promised himself that he would be okay alone.

(He broke that promise. He didn’t really mind that he did.)

Two years later, he would see Ethan at a bar. And this time it would be him in the dark dredges of addiction.

If there was anything Spencer Reid had learned in life, it’s that plans never, ever work out.

But you can always make new ones.

**Author's Note:**

> ahhhhhHHHHHH i moved into my college accommodation. away from home. for the first time ever.
> 
> brb crying i miss everyone from home


End file.
